Define: Devastation
by PenguinTimes
Summary: "Even the mention of the word 'rape' caused her eyes to glaze over, her thought process halted and redirected to memories of a heaving body and sweaty palms, of tears and dignity ripped away with no safety net to catch her." Dynasty can no longer deal with the emotional aftermath of being raped. At least, not alone.


**Hello Waterloo Road people! This will be my first ever WR fic and I hope you enjoy. I'm not really sure how to write Dynasty's dialect since it's such a lovely distinct scouse accent so I'll probably just write it normally... Feel free to read it in her voice though haha. This is set before the most recent episode of Waterloo Road, so Kevin hasn't collapsed or anything in this.  
Thanks for reading, hope you like it (:**

* * *

The walls were closing in on her. She cried out for help and banged against the blood-spattered concrete with tight fists, her conscious mind blurry and flustered. Disorganised thoughts shot through her brain at lightning-speed, and the taunts of a familiar voice forced her to her knees, hands clamped tightly over her ears.

Sweaty, red-eyed and with tear-stained cheeks summed up how Dynasty would find herself waking up most mornings. She'd carry out the same routine each time; bringing her legs to her chest and resting her chin on her knees, shuddering sobs that she tried (but often failed) to control. She'd stand on wobbly legs, fumble her way to the bathroom to splash water on her face, and sit on the cold bathroom floor with a bubble of nausea deep in her stomach.  
Sometimes she threw up, but mostly she didn't; and the revulsion would remain in the pit of her tummy for hours to come.  
Dynasty would reach for her phone, type out a message to Kevin or Kacey or Imogen... And then delete it, knowing that the day she started to depend on her loved ones for this was the beginning of a slipper slope. She had always been so independent, so able to manage her own problems, that the thought of having to rely on other people for her mental health was too difficult to imagine. What if they thought she was crazy? Attention-seeking? What if they didn't reply because they didn't know how to react to the nightmares and the tiny, crude voice inside her head?  
She knew she wasn't going insane, but she also knew that she was neither totally _sane_. She had yet to turn to 'Doctor Google' for fear of reading something she'd rather not see. She could manage. She _had _to manage.

* * *

School was a little easier, because as loud as her internal dialogue was, Waterloo Road was bound to be louder. Surrounding her was her friends and her relationship, a support network of people who didn't even know it existed.  
Although she would concentrate to the best of her ability, Dynasty's mind would often wander. They studied 'Of Mice and Men' in English, and even the mention of the word 'rape' caused her eyes to glaze over, her thought process halted and redirected to memories of a heaving body and sweaty palms, of tears and dignity ripped away with no safety net to catch her.  
Noticing her faraway expression, Kevin tentatively squeezed his girlfriend's hand, a 'let me know you're in there' of sorts. He was more aware of Dynasty's struggles than she thought, and would often lie awake at night at the same time that she would be twisting and turning in bed with venomous memories twisting through her nightmares.

After the lesson, he asked if she was okay, as usual. She'd tell him she was fine, as usual. And they'd continue with their day as if nothing had happened.  
Dynasty had never been less alone physically, and yet she had never felt _more _alone than she did right now. No amount of hugs, kisses and friendly conversation could counteract the damage her own mind seemed to inflict on her each and every day.

* * *

She knew how easy it would be to give into negative temptation, alcohol or drugs or self-harm; anything that would help to numb her over-active mind and let it be taken over by a wave of euphoric haze of intoxication, of pain.  
But she couldn't. No matter how many times she held a razor blade to her pearly skin, she could never force her fingers to break herself open the way _he _had.  
Every morning, she would stare herself down in the mirror and curse her beauty, wondering if she'd have been spared torment had she been uglier, fatter, _different_.  
She hated herself. And she couldn't tell anyone.

* * *

"Dyn?"

"Yeah, babes?"

"Will you tell me what's wrong?"  
Dynasty faltered. Kevin had insisted on her coming back to the school house after the final bell rang, and up until he'd spoken they'd just been curled up on the sofa together watching films. He noticed her muscles tense slightly.

"Nothing's wrong, I don't know what you mean." Pulling away from Dynasty, Kevin looked straight into her ice-blue eyes, brow furrowed.

"Don't lie to me, Dynasty. You seem really... Fixated on something, in your mind I mean, and I want you to tell me what." The girl stared at their intertwined hands, a slight blush painting her cheeks pink.

"I just... I guess I've just been distracted lately. You don't need to worry about me, Kevin." She flashed him a smile -one that didn't quite meet her eyes- and fiddled with a lock of her curly hair. He ignored her attempts to brush him off, and pulled her closer, putting a hand on her cheek to turn her face towards his. Instantly, the blonde flinched and shrank back against the sofa, the memory of her attacker doing exactly the same bolting through her mind in a bloody flash. Kevin let go immediately, face paling and eyes full of concern.

"It's Steve-O, isn't it?" Dynasty flinched again at his name. She looked away. There was no point in hiding an already known fact.

"I... Yes. I just can't get him out of my mind." She buried her face in her hands and started to cry, sobs racking her whole body.

"Oh, Dyn..." Kevin pulled her closer, and she let him; resting her head against his chest and breathing in his warm, familiar smell. "I have n-nightmares," She continued, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I hear his voice and feel his hands on me, it's horrible!" He enclosed her in a tight hug and whipered in her ear, but his attempts at comfort only made Dynasty cry harder. She had gone from stoical and brave to a complete wreck within ten seconds, and amongst the relief of having the burden lifted somewhat, she felt vast amounts of shame.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She repeated, a broken record. Or perhaps just broken. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"Ssh, no, please don't apologise," He begged, stroking her back. "No one expected you to recover overnight, there's lots of support available to you. We'll go and see the school counsellor or Mrs. Mulgrew or whoever you want, we all want to support you. You don't have to do this alone, Dynasty." She nodded, her mood slightly lifted by his promise of help, but a knot of anxiety building in her stomach.

How could she talk about something that she couldn't even face?

* * *

**I wanted to write this because, as much as I usually love the WR storylines, I don't think they handled Dynasty's rape very well. Abby Mavers acted it brilliantly and totally gave it justice, but as is the case with a lot of plots once a couple of episodes had passed everything seemed to just be forgotten about.  
I wanted to show that when you experience such a traumatic event it doesn't just go away overnight, and most people will struggle for months (if not years).  
Anyway, thank you for reading, if you have a few seconds to review I'll love you 5ever! (It's more than 4ever.)  
If you can spare the time, check out my Kynasty video on YouTube! It's called 'Waterloo Road's Dynasty and Kevin – We are Broken' and although it probably isn't very good I stayed up until about 2am making it so... Yeah.**

**Thanks! **


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